Stefan Descantes
by NomineDiaboli
Summary: When a skilled bounty hunter who has lost everything decides to try to capture powerful necromancer, he learns that there is always something more to lose, and something more to gain. M for language, violence, and some adult themes.
1. Volume 1

**Stefan Descantes - Volume I**

Ralnir marched through the Imperial City streets, his expensive velvet clothing stretched tight over his ample stomach. He strode right past an Imperial guard without looking at him. The guard gave him a look of contempt as he passed, his right hand straying nearer to the hilt of his longsword, but the wood elf didn't care. Ralnir knew that the guards suspected that he was the one who was dealing skooma to the city's residents, but had never proved anything. It wasn't for lack of trying, though.

Ralnir slid his key into the door of his expensive Temple District home and unlocked it. He stepped into the darkened room and latched the five tumbler lock behind him. Ralnir lit a couple of candles and grabbed a bottle of Tamika's finest West Weald Wine from the cupboard. Sipping elegantly from the bottle, Ralnir unlocked another five tumbler lock that secured the door to his basement. In his basement was a trapdoor that leads to the Temple District sewer system. It was there that Ralnir made deals with his clients away from the prying eyes of the Imperial Guard. He was planning to meet with a client, then spend the night with a lovely and willing girl he met in the waterfront district.

Ralnir climbed down the ladder into the sewer. Crates littered the ground, the soft shine of glass visible through holes in the wood. The only light came from a lone torch attached to the wall next to the crates, casting deep shadows across the stone floor and walls. The client that was supposed to be meeting him here tonight was no where to be seen. _Bastard_, Ralnir thought, _He's always late_. As Ralnir descended a couple of stone steps, he became aware of an odor clinging to the room. It had a sickly sweet sort of smell that made him feel nauseous. He remembered that smell, from when several bandits waylaid him and some of his accomplices on a drug smuggling mission to Bravil. It was blood.

Ralnir froze. His eyes raked across the room, searching for the source. A few seconds later he saw a dark liquid reflecting the torchlight. The liquid was pooled around what was unmistakably a human hand. "Who's there?" Ralnir shouted out to the darkness. "Reveal yourself!"

A soft scrape sounded from the opposite end of the room, behind the blood. "Gotcha'!" roared Ralnir, raising his hand and firing a powerful bolt of lightning in the direction of the noise. The lighting tore right through the darkness, blasting a sizable hole in the stone wall. By the brief light given off by the shock, Ralnir glimpsed the body of a former client lying in a pool of its own blood and tall man casually avoiding his attack, his hands in his pockets, before darkness fell again. Ralnir stepped back in fear, and shouted out, "Reveal yourself, Imperial dog! Fight like a man!"

More noises came from the darkness, getting nearer. Ralnir held out his hand in that direction, ready. The man stepped out into the light. He was a tall, handsome Imperial, with long black hair that fell elegantly over his face. He wore a black cotton shirt, brown pants, also made of cotton, tough leather hunting boots, and odd black gloves with most of the fingers holes cut off. On his back was a massive ebony claymore, almost as tall as Ralnir. A long thin scar ran down the man's face, starting just above his right eye and ending next to the left hand corner of his mouth. Ralnir stared at the stranger's faint smile, fear etched on every line of his ashen face. The wood elf's hand was shaking as it pointed at the Imperial. "S-Stay back!" he stuttered. "I-I'm warning you!"

"What will you do if I don't?" mocked the Imperial, a smile still playing about his lips. He still stood casually, hands in his pockets, not making any attempt to reach for his sword.

"I-I'll kill you!" Ralnir stuttered, and pointed both his hands at the stranger. Great balls of fire erupted from the ends of his hands, as he threw volley after volley at the Imperial. Smoke filled the chamber, hiding the man from view, but Ralnir didn't care. Fireballs torched every square inch of the room, blackening the walls and reducing his crates filled with skooma to ash. Suddenly the fireballs stopped. Ralnir let out a long moan and sank to his feet, exhausted. After a few seconds, the smoke cleared, revealing the utterly destroyed chamber. The archway that connected this part of the sewer with the rest had collapsed, and drainage water, having no where else to go, began to flood. But worst of all, the stranger was still standing, completely unconcerned and uninjured, apart from a slight burn on his arm and hole in his shirt.

"Are you quite finished yet?" asked the stranger, inspecting the nails of his hand. Ralnir face was contorted with fury and fear. He tried to force himself to his feet, but collapsed. The man pulled his claymore of his back and pointed it at Ralnir. "This is how it's going to go," he said, the infuriating smile no longer on his face. "You have two choices. One: I turn you in to the Watch. Two: you fight back and I drag your lifeless corpse to the Watch. Which will it be?"

"This one thinks he has another choice, Descantes. He will come with me." Both Ralnir and the man, Descantes, whirled around. A Khajiit man dressed in full battle armor was standing in the corner, his blackened armor almost completely blending in with the darkness. Ralnir supposed that he would have been good-looking, for a Khajiit, if his face hadn't been marred by the gaping hole in his head where his right ear had been, or the patch over his right eye. He had two silver shortswords tied to his waist, and a giant war axe strapped to his back. The Khajiit smiled. "Leave, Imperial."

For the first time, Ralnir saw anger on the Imperial's face. He swung his blade around so it pointed at the Khajiit. "I am not leaving, A'jima. I was here first. He's _my_ bounty."

A'jima gave him an indulgent smile, as though he were a small child. "That is where you are wrong, my good friend Stefan. _I_ was here first. I have been hiding in the corner the whole time. You must have noticed my handiwork," he said gesturing towards the body of Ralnir's ex-client.

Stefan gave him a derisive look. "I was wondering who left that there."

"Ah, yes, I forgot," the Khajiit said softly. "You are above such things like _killing_, aren't you? I've always wondered how you've managed to survive in this business with such _undesirable_ scruples. Now," A'jima said, drawing both his shortswords, one in each hand. "It is time for you to go. In case you've forgotten, _I _am the one who gave you that attractive scar. Unless you want another one, _leave_."

"I'm sure I could forgive myself just this once if I killed you. And in case you've forgotten, _I _am the one who gave you that attractive hole in the side of your head and patch over your eye." He smirked as the Khajiit's hand instinctively jumped to where his ear should have been. "I think you should go now."

A'jima bared his teeth. "So... It has come to combat, eh?" he asked, his voice almost inaudible. "So be it!" he screamed, leaping at Stefan, swinging his dual blades at his head. Stefan raised his claymore just in time and blocked both his blows, but no sooner had his blades connected with the Imperial's did A'jima swing them around for another attack, and another, and another. Stefan blocked or dodged everything the Khajiit threw at him, but Ralnir knew he was tiring. The Khajiit's shortswords were just too fast for his claymore to keep up. A'jima brought one of his swords low and the other high, stabbing at the same time. Stefan blocked the low one easily but the high was too quick. The gleaming blade splashed red as the shortsword cut Stefan's cheek. The Imperial was knocked back, blood streaming from his face. The Khajiit laughed and swung both his blades towards his neck. Instead of blocking the attack, Stefan ducked beneath the blades and stabbed A'jima's thigh. The Khajiit nearly dropped his swords as he gasped from the pain and surprise of the Imperial's attack. Pressing his advantage, Stefan flicked his claymore upward and stabbed it right at A'jima's chest. The Khajiit saw the attack coming and managed to deflect it with one of his swords, but the blade still drove itself into his left shoulder.

A'jima's entire left arm went numb, and his shortsword fell from his hand. With a sickening _shlick!_, Stefan pulled his claymore out from the Khajiit's arm and wiped it off in the water. A'jima collapsed to the ground, his right hand grasping his wounded shoulder, both his shortswords lying on the ground. He lost all control of his left arm, and he was sure his shoulder blade had broken. It took all his self-control not to scream from the agony as he struggled to his feet. He realized his eyes had been screwed shut from the pain and he tried to open them. The whole chamber was spinning, and he nearly collapsed again, but he managed to pick up both his swords with his right hand and stow them in his belt. He saw that Stefan was watching him and forced himself to ignore the pain. "You... win this time... Stefan," he gasped. He began to limp over to the remains of the archway. "Take your stupid... prisoner... with his... stupid... 5,000 gold... bounty.. wasn't... worth it..." he muttered, and, with a dexterity amazing for someone who has just been severely wounded, leapt to the top of pile of rubble that blocked the archway and crawled through a small hole.

As the Khajiit disappeared, Stefan turned to face Ralnir, who was, miraculously, still standing stock-still next to the ladder to his home. Stefan found it amazing that he hadn't tried to run for it during the fight. "So?" he asked, as though nothing happened. "What's your choice? Dead or alive?"

--

"Another one, Jans!"

"Comin' right up!" Jans, the barman of the Drowned Dog, a sleazy but prosperous bar and inn in the Waterfront district, slid another bottle of Surilie Brothers wine down the counter to Stefan. The Drowned Dog was a haven for bounty hunters, since Jans knew the price of every criminal in Cyrodiil. "Your last job go all right?" he asked leaning against the counter in front of Stefan.

"Yep," Stefan replied, taking a gulp of wine. "Turned him in alive and got the 5,000 septim bounty. Ran into A'jima, though, and I had to do some damage."

Jans nodded. "Yeah, I heard about that. Someone saw him crawlin' out of the sewer, lookin' pretty bad."

"Yeah, I hadn't meant to really hurt him _that_ bad, but... " Stefan shrugged and drained his remaining wine. "Another one, please," he said, and when Jans got back he said, "I'm just glad he got out of the sewers all right. It's dangerous down there."

"You did what you had to do," the Nord said sagely.

"I guess..." Stefan replied. "What I want to know is why the City Watch didn't catch him. He must walk past them fifty times a day, it would have been easy to pick him up, and they wouldn't have to pay us bounty hunters either."

Jans leaned closer. "Rumor has it that the Imperial City watch is spread to its breakin' point. Captain Lex has so many guards lookin' for the Gray Fox and his Thieves Guild that there are hardly any guards left over. I heard that if a single guard is sent out to catch someone, an entire portion of the city is left unguarded for the time it takes him to catch the criminal."

Stefan whistled. "That bad?"

"Sure is." Jans leaned back and walked back down the counter to serve other patrons. The bar was packed with a motley assortment of criminals, beggars, junkies, whores, bounty hunters, and the occasional regular citizen. Looking around, Stefan saw at least three people drinking skooma without even bothering to hide the fact, and what looked like a dead body stuffed into a corner. He could probably make a fortune collecting the bounties on people just in this bar, but he knew Jans would never forgive him and it was Jans' information that helped him catch bounties.

"Stefan! Guess what I just heard!" Jans had returned. Stefan turned around and looked at him, interested. Jans almost never got this excited. He was practically beside himself. "What is it?" Stefan asked.

"I just heard that there is someone with a _150,000 septim bounty_!"


	2. Volume 2

**Stefan Descantes - Volume II**

Stefan nearly choked on his wine. "_150,000?_ You're kidding! Who is it?"

"Some high elf named Almac. Arcane University is footing the bill for the bounty," said Jans, wiping a dirty tankard with an equally dirty rag.

"What do you have to do to get 150,000 septims on your head? The most I've ever seen is 60,000."

"Well let's see..." Jans paused for a moment, sliding a beer over to a pretty girl who had just sat down next to Stefan. "Ah yes, now I remember. It was for numerous counts of murder, assault, battery, rape, attempted murder, conspiracy to commit murder, vampirism, abduction, torture, practicing inhumane experiments on people, and finally, you'll love this, _necrophilia_. Rumor has it he's also a Necromancer."

"Wow. I've never had to arrest a necrophiliac before," said Stefan, draining his wine,

"I've never even heard of someone getting arrested for it. Well, actually, there was this one girl a few years back, but she was only fined 50 septims and sent on her way," Jans replied, refilling Stefan's tankard.

"Know where he is?"

"Hell no. Nobody does," said Jans loudly, sliding a couple bottles down the counter to his other customers. He leaned closer to Stefan and whispered, "Actually, there may be someone. Llana Solera. Dark Elk girl. Pretty. I heard that she's the guy's girlfriend."

"I thought that he was a necrophiliac," said Stefan, also whispering.

"He is, but that doesn't mean he can't like living girls as well. From what I've heard, they were together in one of the caves he practices his necromancy in when a tribe of ogres decided to kick them out. Forcibly. Anyway, the two were separated during the escape and she's headin' to his new cave."

"Where is it?"

"Didn't I just tell you I don't know where he was? Don't you think that if I knew what cave he was in, I would know where he was?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"I _don't_ know where he is. She_ does_. She was last seen in Chorrol. Ask around in the local bars."

"What if she's keeping a low profile?"

"My... source... tells me that, before she became Almac's girl, she worked as a high-class prostitute in many of the major cities, including Chorrol. At least _someone_ must have recognized her."

"And if not?"

"You're on your own then, kid." Jans leaned back and walked back down the counter.

Stefan leaned back onto the counter and turned back around towards the rest of the bar. _150,000 septims... that's enough to buy me a mansion in Skingrad and live the rest of my life in comfort... _Stefan sighed. It would probably take weeks to track this bastard down, months if this Llana Solera doesn't know where he is or her information is wrong. Stefan didn't doubt for a moment that he would be able to get information out of her. He had a way with both words and fists that usually got the job done. _I'll have a couple more drinks, spend the night with some whore, and set off in the morning_, he thought, sipping his wine.

"That's quite a bounty you're going after."

Stefan once again nearly choked on his wine, and sat there coughing for almost half a minute. When he finally regained control of himself, he turned towards the voice, furious that they were eavesdropping on him and Jans. It was the girl who had sat down next to him when Jans began telling him about Almac. She was an Imperial about his age, 20, and very pretty. She was dressed in leather greaves, leather boots, and leather gauntlets, but seamed to have decided against the cuirass, which was the most important part, and only had a bra over her chest. She had short brown hair that fell just past her shoulders and deep, chocolately eyes with a touch of scarlet. She was also leaning back against the bar and was staring at the ceiling with a benign smile on her face. "Are you all right?" she asked.

Stefan nodded absently before he remembered that he was angry at her. "Were you eavesdropping on me?" he demanded, slamming his drink onto the counter so that it sloshed all over his hand.

She continued to smile at the ceiling. "Yes."

Stefan was so disarmed by her honesty that his rage subsided. He sighed and dried off his hand. "And why were you listening in on my conversation?"

"Because I could."

He hadn't expected this answer. "Uh... okay..."

She suddenly stopped staring at the ceiling and turned to look at him. "I want to help you find Almac."

At this point Stefan was very confused. "What? Why?"

She looked at him like he was stupid. "Because I want some of the bounty, of course."

It was Stefan's turn to look at her like she was stupid. "In that case-" he began.

She held up her hand. "I think that you should think a little more before saying anything. I know that you are a very experienced and talented bounty hunter, but I'm sure I could give you a run for your money if I wanted too."

"And why do you think that?"

"Because, after all, vampires are superior to normal humans in every way," she answered slowly, as though speaking to someone stupid. "We're faster, stronger, smarter," she said, ticking off on her fingers. "Better at casting illusions and destructive magic, sneakier, more seductive, we can become invisible, see in the dark, detect life... do you want me to continue?"

Stefan stared at her. "You're a..."

She smiled at him again, but this time showed her teeth. Her canines were elongated. "Vampire, yes," she said softly.

Stefan turned back to his drink and thought for a moment. He was pretty sure that he could beat her too the bounty, even if she was a vampire, but 150,000 gold pieces is a lot to lose over an assumption. He turned back to her. "If you come with me, how would we split the reward? Would we do 50-50, or-"

She placed a delicate finger on his lips to silence him. "If you want to here my proposal, come to my room in an hour. It's on the second floor, third door from the left. Here's the key," she said, tossing him a silver room key. She got to her feet and walked away, leaving Stefan looking surprised and bewildered.

He watched her saunter over to the stairs for a few moments of stunned silence before coming to his senses. Abandoning his drink, he stood up and ran up to Jans, who serving a couple of bounty hunters. "Jans!" he called out. "Who is that girl?" he asked, pointing at her retreating back.

Jans looked at her for a moment, and said, "Ah, that's Salena. Salena Grigorio. She's also a bounty hunter. She's nothing on you of course, in terms of skill, but those powers she gets from being a vampire even the playing field a bit... Why? Was she hitting on you?"

Stefan was about to tell him about her offer to come with him to help search for Almac, but decided against it. It just felt like their business only. "Yes," he answered, technically telling the truth, since she _did _hit on him.

One of the bounty hunters emerged from his drink long enough to say, "Best fuck you'll ever have," before draining it in one long draft. The other bounty hunter nodded in agreement.

"Well, good luck, kid," Jans said, punching Stefan in the arm playfully. "Hope you don't get her pregnant."

Stefan left the table and made his way over back to his stool, but found it already occupied by a massive Nord with his arms around two beautiful Nord girls. Stefan turned back around and left the bar. He walked up to the pier and sat down, staring up at the moon. _Should I meet with her?_, he wondered. She seemed trustworthy, but every bounty hunter knows not to trust anybody you haven't known for years, and even people you _have_ known for years are sometimes suspect. _ Let's see, pros: business offer that I can always refuse, maybe even free sex. Cons: she could just be luring me somewhere alone so that she could kill me or bite me, or both. _Stefan sighed. He _had_ been planning to pick up a prostitute anyway, and she was free, so... In the end, he decided that he would meet with her. He could always refuse her offer if he didn't like it, and if she tried to kill or maim him, he would have his claymore to defend himself with.

When an hour had passed, Stefan stood up and strode back into the bar. He ascended the stairs to the second floor and made his way down the hallway. He arrived at the third door from the left and hesitated, wondering if this was a bad idea, but slid the key into the lock anyway and opened the door.

Two candles sat on the dresser, illuminating the room. It was one of the better rooms, with a double bed, a dresser with a mirror, and a window with a picturesque view of the waterfront. Salena was sitting on the bed, half-shrouded in darkness. As he entered the room, she stood up and casually walked up to him.

"Shh..." she murmured, as he was about to ask her what her offer was, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Let the offer wait until morning. Let's just enjoy the night..."

Stefan felt her breasts press up against him and her hips lean seductively into his, and decided that the offer _could_ wait until morning.


End file.
